


The Art of Letting Go

by grecianviolet



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Offscreen character death, immortal jane, mortal everyone else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28149498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grecianviolet/pseuds/grecianviolet
Summary: It becomes harder and harder for Jane to lose her connections to Midgard. Loki does his best to help her say goodbye.
Relationships: Jane Foster/Loki
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40
Collections: Lokane Week Holiday Celebration 2020





	The Art of Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This fic deals with major character death. None of it is graphic, all of it is offscreen, and neither Loki nor Jane die, but if it will bother you, please don't read.

**The Art of Letting Go**

Written for Lokane Week 2020

Prompt: _You have me. Until every last star in the galaxy dies. You have me._ (Amie Kaufman, Illuminae)

Every time they came back, back to the backwater world he'd once thought to rule, back to a place he still half-considered as peopled by savages, Loki couldn't help but be surprised by how far they've come. To an Aesir—or a Jotun, whatever the case might be—the pace of humanity's growth since their introduction to the wider universe outside their atmosphere was quite incredible. From the window, he can see the far spires of New York, gleaming skyscrapers powered by the wind-farm spanning miles of ocean just offshore. Renewable energy, sustainable living, cost-effective recycling...all things humans once considered pretty illusions were now fixtures of life on Earth.

Perhaps it was because Loki saw it only rarely that he was surprised by the pace of these changes. They returned to Midgard only once a year, now. It used to be every few months. When he and Jane first embarked on their journey through the realms of Yggdrasil, no matter what research she was fixed on or how far they had managed to roam, she had nonetheless insisted on being present for holidays, birthdays, and the arrival of each new baby. She maintained a calendar of every social event, thought of her friends constantly, arrived always with her arms full of presents she'd accumulated from a variety of worlds.

But time wore on, water on a stone, and steadily it wore away her need to feel connected to the planet upon which she'd been born.

Then the inevitable began to happen.

Erik passed first, Jane at his bedside. His was a peaceful death, a reward for a long, fruitful life. While painful, it was an experience Jane had expected and could manage. Loki did what he could, but Jane required little enough help. She was a sensible woman, and as Erik aged, she had made certain to spend as much time with him as possible. All Loki had to do through the months of her grief was listen to her reminisce about the many afternoons they'd spent together pouring over Jane's discoveries. In his final months, Jane had brought Erik intimate knowledge of the stars they'd once studied together, a priceless gift she had cherished giving.

It was the unexpected deaths that were harder to bear. Midgard seethed with unrest in the first few years of their partnership; it was a young world, stuck in a long, violent adolescence. Romanov—Natasha—died on a mission in Nepal, her lightning-fast reflexes no match for stepping into a sniper's sights. Sam's wings, the same ones that had carried him in and out of so many dogfights, in and out of so much danger, took a hit in one skirmish that sent him plunging to the ground. Jane could be there for the funerals, but...

When she did attend, it was to the accompaniment of awed whispers. _Loki_ 's immortal appearance was to be expected. To see a former mortal, however, unchanged by the passage of decades, was a shock no matter how well the fact of her transformation was known. After awhile, Jane began to say her farewells in private, and left the planet before her friends were buried.

So many of her friends were buried, now. Seven decades. Seventy years of their association, then love, then marriage. At times, Loki could not but be thankful that Jane was not underground among them. Their future had, at first, been quite uncertain. Jane had not...not _wanted_ to die, per se, but had wanted to remain mortal. Much as he knew she loved him—much as _she_ knew it too—the idea of surviving all her friends, all her family, all her _world_...such a concept took time to grow comfortable with. He knew she was still not comfortable with it, not really. He knew it was an decision she would always, however slightly, regret.

He knew, because she had been forty-two when she'd consented to eat the Apple of Idunn, when Loki had stolen it for her years before. He knew, because now that she had only one tie left to Earth, she still insisted on holding onto it, no matter how much it hurt her.

Speaking of which...

"There he is," Darcy's voice, thin and quavery, still retained that deep vein of irony he remembered, "what's there to see outside that window? Damn windmills give me a headache. Round and round they go. Can't believe you insisted on taking me to see 'em."

Jane, pushing her friend's wheelchair, looked more like Darcy's daughter than her contemporary. She smiled. "I still can't believe how far it's come. Feels like only yesterday I saw it going up."

"And _I_ feel like I've stared at them every day for the last decade," Darcy's laugh turned to a dry, painful cough. Loki spun up a cup of water and held it to her lips.

She took delicate sips, like a bird. Up close, he could see how thin her skin had become, how withered around the eyes. Her hair, once so earthy and rich, was a silver sheet. Her body weighed almost nothing as he lifted her; together, he and Jane settled her under the fresh white sheets of her bed.

Darcy grinned rakishly and winked. "Careful, kiddo. You'll make your wife jealous, and you know what she'll do to you if she is."

"Oh, he knows," Jane took Darcy's hand and a seat by her side, "Besides, if it's _you_ flirting, I don't mind. You asked about the possibility of sharing him once, do you remember?"

"Nah, I asked if he had a brother besides Thor. Being a queen never really appealed to me. A princess, though..." Darcy sighed, "I would have been a good princess. Tell the truth. No sudden, undiscovered brother like the sudden, undiscovered sister? Make an old lady happy."

"My apologies," Loki bowed, "But it is likely for the best. As my sister was such a disappointment to us, I would imagine any heretofore unknown brother must be the same."

"Just as well. What would an Asgardian know what to do with all this?" her thin hand made a flourishing whirl, and they all laughed together.

It was a nice visit, peaceful, placid. Loki always enjoyed Darcy; her spirit, her flair for life, her humor. He also enjoyed what she could tell him of Jane's past, minutiae his wife didn't care to remember or recount. More than it all, he enjoyed seeing Jane so happy, even if her happiness had an edge so sharply bittersweet it would bleed her later.

It was a short visit. Darcy's words grew slow and choppy, her eyes heavy and listless. The nurse came in with a cup of pills to take and a recommendation that Jane and Loki come back tomorrow. Darcy was asleep when they left, shallow breaths wheezing through thin, chapped lips. Jane leaned over to kiss her friend's silver hair and touch her dry, soft hand.

Evening was deepening as they left the home; the lights were already blinding in the city across the bay. Jane stood on the stairs, facing the ocean, and her shoulders heaved with a few deep, silent sobs.

"We can stay as long as you want, Jane."

She shook her head, turning. Tears glittered in her starry eyes, but she blinked and they were gone. "It's already been a month. We planned to be back by now, and I...I want to get back. I do. Besides," she glanced at Darcy's window, a square of lightless dark, "she's fine. She could...the nurses all say she's got years left."

"She was always resilient."

"Yeah. She _is_ ," Jane set off down the hill ahead of him, but slowly enough that he knew himself already forgiven. He didn't touch her as he walked by her side; she would tell him, reach for him, when she wanted him.

Abruptly, she stopped at the bottom of the hill, halfway through a step. Turning back once more, she stared at the building, though Darcy's window was now out of sight.

"She's the last one here," she whispered, and her tears slid down into the seam of her lips. She licked them and sighed. "She's the only one I've got. When she's gone...what's left? Am I," she shook her head, and when she spoke again, it was only to herself, "Will I still be human?"

"She's not the last one," Loki bent to her, but still didn't touch her, afraid that if he did she would lash out like a wounded lioness, "You have me. Until every last star in the galaxy dies, I swear it, Jane, you have _me_."

She rocked on her feet, arms wrapped tightly around herself as though if she let go she feared she would fly apart. Then she surged for him, arms desperate and greedy, clutching him to her like a woman drowning in an open ocean. He bore her up, knowing that this would all pass, but would never be forgotten.

Jane had given him her most precious gifts—her mind, her body, her love—and it was his duty to be worthy of those gifts. Just as he pledged himself to her, he looked up into the stars above them and swore to Yggdrasil that, from this day to his last, he would be whatever she needed him to be.


End file.
